Chapter 9

With the year drawing to a close, the fighting on the frontier became critical. For several days in a row, Pei Qi hadn’t stayed the night at the Imperial Consort’s residence at all, instead remaining in the Imperial Study.

That bought me a few quiet days, too.

I went into the Plum Grove and cut a handful of plum branches, planning to arrange them in the Imperial Consort’s Jade Vase. That way, when the Imperial Consort woke, she’d see them at a glance, be in a better mood, and-hopefully-not splash that foot-washing water all over me again.

The colder it got, the more I truly didn’t want to catch a chill.

I just hadn’t expected to run into Pei Qi there.

The Imperial Consort’s palace was not far away, yet he didn’t go on. He stopped and lingered in the Plum Grove.

It was nothing like before.

In the past, the moment he had no official matters to handle, he couldn’t wait even a heartbeat before barging into the hall to be with his beauty.

I immediately dropped to my knees.

Above my head, the Son of Heaven’s voice came down, low and deliberate, as if he were tasting the words for amusement.

“Cui. Fuling.”

“This servant is here.”

“Lift your head.”

I raised my gaze.

The Son of Heaven was in the prime of his life-tall, commanding, with an unmistakable air of authority. He also had a face made to look affectionate, the kind that seemed to promise tenderness even when it gave none.

He examined my features closely, then said without warning, “The peach blossoms in Qingyun Palace bloom the best. It’s still empty there. Would you be willing to go?”

I answered, “The Imperial Consort does not like peach blossoms.”

He went on, “I mean for you to go alone.”

I bowed my head in thanks. “Palace Maid postings are for Your Majesty to decide. This servant will obey the Imperial Decree. Thank you for Your Majesty’s great grace.”

He kept looking at me. “You know that isn’t what I mean.”

Within Dasheng, the Son of Heaven was supreme.

In the Imperial Kitchen, the dishes prepared for him numbered far beyond three thousand.

Even if he loved a plate of Squirrel Mandarin Fish, it was impossible to eat only that one dish forever. There would always be other dishes to go with it.

Yet when passion ran deep, he had once promised a lifetime-one man, one woman.

It was hard to slap his own face.

So he waited for someone else to break the promise for him.

Just like this.

He had watched in silence as I endured humiliation after humiliation, never speaking up. He only waited for the moment I could no longer bear it-when I would crawl to his feet and beg for his pity.

But I only kept my head raised.

Because he hadn’t told me to lower it.

So I spoke plainly. “Your Majesty, please forgive this servant. This servant does not understand.”

He laughed.

Not with mirth-more like he was laughing out of anger.

“Cui Fuling,” he said, “when will that face of yours ever show a different expression?”

At last, something appeared on my face: genuine shock and confusion.

The Son of Heaven paused for a beat, then flicked his sleeve and turned away.

The wind and snow thickened, and in no time the little warmth that had gathered here was scattered and swept clean.

What happened today felt like a dream.

From that day on, even when Pei Qi came to the Imperial Consort’s place, he never again spared me a single glance.